


keep heart, it will turn out all right.

by strategists



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strategists/pseuds/strategists
Summary: cross-posted from twitter! this is my entry for #kurokenweek2020. the prompt was "comfort" but i'm not really sure if i delivered aaa ;--; still, i hope you guys enjoy it! ><
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42
Collections: Kuroken Week 2020





	keep heart, it will turn out all right.

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from twitter! this is my entry for #kurokenweek2020. the prompt was "comfort" but i'm not really sure if i delivered aaa ;--; still, i hope you guys enjoy it! ><

"Kozume-kun, you should head up."

Kenma sits up straight in alarm. His eyes flutter slowly as he inclines his head and takes in the concerned frown on Akaashi's face. It's not an unfamiliar scene but it has been a while since he's seen that expression directed at him. 

"And you didn't eat dinner." Akaashi fixes a pointed stare at the untouched can of beans.

Kenma fiddles with the knife he was sharpening just before he succumbed to fatigue. "I'm fine, Akaashi." He shifts his eyes to the barricaded door. "I'll wait 'til he gets back." 

Silence ebbs into the space between them. Though Kenma has his back turned to Akaashi, he knows he's being stared down. He knows Akaashi is dissecting his words, his movements in order to pick the appropriate course of action. It's a skill that the former setter has honed throughout the years and it irks Kenma — just a bit — that it's being used on him.

"It's been nine hours, Kozume-kun. He's probab—"

Unexpectedly, Kenma stabs the knife on the table. 

"He's coming back, alright." His words come out quiet barely bouncing off the walls and yet, menacing all the same. It leaves no room for argument.

In the face of humanity's collapse, emotions will make you a liability. Kenma knows — _he was the one who told Lev this, for_ _God's sakes_ — but still, he can't control the way his chest constricts and blood boils at Akaashi ever suggesting that Kuroo wasn't coming back. 

Objectively, Kenma knows it's a possibility but _to hell_ is he going to accept it just like that. Kuroo is strong and brave — a little reckless and a little impulsive, sure, but nonetheless, he _is_ brave.

Of the both of them, Kuroo was the first one to get it together at the beginning of the outbreak.

He was the one to crush a zombie's skull with a goddamn rock when Kenma had been too stunned by the progression of the events to react, much to the latter's chagrin. 

He was the one to go back into the heart of Tokyo just because he learned that Yaku was alive and fending by himself. 

Above all, Kuroo was the one that brought their little gang together and made sure no one got left even if it meant risking his life.

He has been their saving grace since the very beginning and it is a testament to his capabilities.

 _He's proven himself time and time again so, why now should we doubt him?_ Kenma locks his jaw, head hanging low that his unkempt hair curtained his face.

He feels a hand rest on his shoulder. Looking up, he realizes Akaashi has moved from the staircase. Had Kenma been so deep into his thoughts that he hadn't heard Akaashi move? 

The latter fixes him a levelled gaze.

"Kozume-kun."

"Akaashi." Kenma regards him. The tension in his body unravels but the constricted feeling in his chest barely goes away. For all the conviction he had, he's unable to fend off his worries. 

"I know you're worried; we all are. I apologize for saying such a thing. It was the last thing you would have wante —"

A loud thud jolts the two apart, effectively diverting their attention to the source — the front door. Akaashi's hand on Kenma's shoulder falls away as the former silently reaches to the pistol tethered to his belt. Kenma grips his knife, senses alert for any and all possible scenarios. He rises from his chair, and yields the weapon as he quietly walks towards the door. 

The sound of fingers snapping halts Kenma in his motions. He glances at Akaashi, nodding as the latter signs _"I'll check the back."_ The last he sees is the raven grabbing the machete resting by the wall before he focuses back on the door.

Kenma has been in one too many close encounters that he should be used to these by now; yet every single time, it still feels like the first. He swallows thickly, willing himself to calm his breathing. He takes another step forward.

Two knocks and another thud.

"Kenma…?" Kenma's heart stops beating. "It's me." He drops the knife with a clang. Before he could even process it, he's running the last few steps to the door, and frantically removing the barricade. Vaguely, he can make out sounds of multiple footsteps, a yell of his name, and blood rushing in his ears.

He opens the door. He's greeted by Kuroo leaning against the door frame, bloodied and bruised. 

"You waited for me?" Kuroo has the audacity to smirk. Kenma scowls, ready to chastise the older when he collapses. Kenma reacts almost immediately.

"Kuro…" He forces out, the sudden weight knocking the air out of his lungs. As he staggers back into the house, his mind tunnels into one singular thought.

_Kuroo is hurt._

_Kuroo is hurt._

_Kuroo is hurt._

The events that followed after barely registers. His body numbs, though it could be because of the weight of Kuroo crushing him, Kenma thinks otherwise. 

(He roughly makes out Bokuto and Lev dashing outside presumably to secure the area, and Akaashi dropping to his knees beside Kenma as he yells out for Yaku and a first aid kit.)

He maneuvers Kuroo's body to drape over his lap, one hand coming up to run through the older's dirty locks.

As he continues with his motions, Kenma watches Kuroo's features intently. He sees the way the older sighs into touch. He almost smiles, the knots in his chest beginning to untangle, until he catches the flinch that comes after. 

"Kuro?" He whispers, panic slowly coloring his words.

"Kenma." He snaps his head to the source — Yaku. He had almost forgotten he was there along with Akaashi.

The libero bites his lip. With a shaky hand, he gestures to the left of Kuroo's abdomen where one of his hands clutches over the area. Kenma follows the motion; he almost wishes he hadn't.

"Wait, don't —" Kenma ignores Kuroo and gently pries that latter's hand off.

At the sight of the wound, Kenma's blood runs cold. His head fills with cotton and his tongue is heavy with lead. In a daze, he slumps into the wall behind him.

Silently, he pulls Kuroo closer, maneuvers the older so Akaashi and Yaku can examine the wound. At their proximity, Kenma can feel Kuroo's labored breaths on his neck. Can hear the sharp inhales when Akaashi prods at the wound. Can hear the slurred apologies.

At this proximity, Kenma can feel Kuroo's lips fluttering over his skin as he says _Kenma_ over and over again as if it was the only thing grounding him. Kenma bites his lip.

"What happened?" He manages to choke out. Kuroo huffs a laugh though, it's overtaken by a pained gasp as Akaashi continues disinfecting the wound.

"I went to that grocery store we saw a town over —" Kuroo flinches. "Scavenged for food, supplies, the usual. I was on the way back when I stopped for gas. While I was filling the tank, these three guys jumped me and knocked me unconscious. Woke up in a few hours? Minutes? Who the fuck knows. Just — I woke up and the truck's gone. Had to walk back and — _Jesus Christ!"_

Akaashi accidentally presses on the wound too hard and Kuroo hisses in response, body jerking. Kenma, despite the panic that threatens to rise up his throat, calmly and gently combs through Kuroo's hair. He hopes Kuroo doesn't notice the slight tremor in his hands.

"And — and the wound?" He hesitates. He knows what it is, _God does he know,_ but he asks anyways with the selfish hope that he must be mistaken.

He's met with silence.

"Kuro, the wound." The shaking in his hand intensifies as he cups Kuroo's face, forcing the older to look him in the eye. "Where did you get it? Tell me!" He regards the way Kuroo's eyes widen at his outburst, the way the latter's pupils shake as he flounders for a response. 

"You got bitten." He fails to hide the defeat in his tone as his eyes cloud over with frustrated tears.

Kenma, who takes every variable and analyses them to predict the most probable outcome and is often right, has never wished to be wrong more than he did at this moment.

He slumps further down the wall, taking Kuroo down with him. The fight leaves his body.

Lev and Bokuto have returned and, bitterly, Kenma realizes that for once they were silent. Akaashi continues to assess the wound, the only evidence that he's affected by the reveal is the hard press of his lips. And Yaku, much like Kenma himself, fights back the tears.

"You guys should go." Kuroo says it so softly, Kenma almost thinks he had imagined it. 

"What?" 

He continues. "There's still the other truck. I don't know how long it'll take for me to turn but if you can leave in a few hou —"

"Dude, can you shut up." Kenma looks up and sees the deep furrow of Bokuto's eyebrows, and the frustrated scowl pulling on his lips.

Kuroo frowns.

"What do you mean? I'm _helping_ you."

"Kuroo-san, please stop talking. You sound stupid." Lev adds, pouting. "We're not gonna leave you behind. Right, Kenma-san?"

Kenma slowly blinks up at them, eyes moving from Bokuto who stands with his back against the newly barricaded door, arms crossed; to Lev who looks at him with anticipation, green eyes bright with earnest hope; to Yaku who ignores the tears sliding down his face to fix Kuroo a hard glare; to Akaashi who, almost mechanical and unfeeling, begins to stitch the wound close; and finally to Kuroo whose face screws up in agony, breaths falling heavy and hot on the skin of Kenma's neck.

Emotions will make you a liability.

 _But they make you human too,_ Kenma argues.

"You're right, Lev," Kenma mutters. He feels rather than sees the disbelieving stare Kuroo sends his way, and opts to ignore it. "We'll figure it out." He tilts his head, now meeting Kuroo's eyes. "Like we always do."

๏

In the two hours it takes to treat him, Kuroo passes out halfway. Akaashi and Kenma use this time to attend to the other wounds and bruises covering his skin. Once they finish, Bokuto lifts Kuroo and carefully places him onto the futon, which Yaku brought down, with his head resting on Kenma's lap.

When the area is secured once again — this time, Lev kills two walkers and Bokuto saves him from a runner he fails to see — the four leave Kenma and Kuroo alone in favor of getting at least a few hours of sleep.

Though, Akaashi is more hesitant to leave them and Kenma knows it's because he's risking a lot by staying near. _Who knows if it's still his Kuroo when he wakes up?_

"It's fine, Akaashi." He runs his fingers through Kuroo's hair, gently pressing on the scalp as he goes. _Kuro always liked it when he did that_ , Kenma thinks idly. "You go up. We can't have you tired."

Akaashi stares at him. Again, he dissects his words, his actions and Kenma just takes it, too concerned for Kuroo's well-being to bother.

He sighs, and closes the gap between them. Kenma, upon feeling the cold metal on the side of his head, looks up at him.

"Kozume-kun, you're smart. You're objective." The raven pauses to gulp as if he himself is bothered by what he's doing. "I trust that you will do the right thing." 

Kenma swallows thickly but nevertheless, nods and takes the pistol. 

"If need be," Akaashi tacts on. Kenma nods again, and watches him disappear to the second floor.

Once they're left alone, Kenma allows himself to cry. He doesn't sob, no. His tears fall silently as he traces Kuroo's face, ignoring the dampness on his own cheeks.

The stress from the constant anticipation and adrenaline is gone, he notes. It softens Kuroo's features and makes him look younger, almost innocent and naive to the terror that has overtaken the world. Kenma doesn't remember the last time he's ever seen him this calm, this at peace. 

"You're so stupid. You know that, right?" Kenma lets out a strangled laugh. "So stupid." 

He squeezes Kuroo's cheeks together, sniffling.

"You said no one gets left behind. That includes you, okay?"

๏

Kenma jolts awake. The room is dark and the pistol rests idly on the side of his thigh.

"Hey, can you loosen up on the grip?" He looks down and realizes belatedly he's tightly twisting dark locks in his hands. 

"Sorry," He mumbles. 

One second.

Two and then three, then it hits him. 

Kenma tilts his head in a haste, a silent gasp leaves him. Gold meets gold and a tiny crack from dried lips, Kuroo smiles.

"Hi," He whispers and it's returned with a flick on his forehead. "Kenma! That hurt!"

Kenma rolls his eyes. "Yeah? Well then, next time think before you go out and decide to get bitten."

Kenma expects a quip, maybe a light punch to his shoulder or a squeeze on his nose, but it doesn't come. Instead, Kuroo falls somber. The quiet is suddenly all too heavy, all too dense.

Silence is always welcomed when it comes to Kenma but this time, it leaves an acrid taste on his tongue.

"Next time, huh?" It's barely heard.

"Of course," Kenma grumbles, agitation lilting his words. 

"You really think I'm not gonna turn?"

"Kuro."

"Kenma."

" _Kuro._ "

" _Kenma_."

" _Tetsurou._ " And that shuts the older up. Kenma hardly ever calls Kuroo by his first name but frustration gets the better of him and he just — _needs Kuroo to stop saying things like that._

"I don't know." He huffs, addressing Kuroo's question. "I don't know, okay? Hardly anyone does. We're not in those movies we used to watch, Tetsurou, so we can't know for sure if a bite will transmit the pathogen."

The line between logic and forced optimism blurs, not unlike how his eyes cloud over again with a fresh set of tears. Kenma doesn't think he's cried this much until now. 

In the effort to keep his tears at bay, Kenma fails to notice the hand that cups his neck, bringing him closer to the body beneath him. Cracked lips gently linger on his forehead and it does him no favors. With eyes falling close, he rests his forehead against Kuroo's. The hand at the back of his neck now cups his cheek, thumb brushing lightly on his skin. 

"I'm sorry," Kuroo rasps. "I'm so sorry."

"Stop that." Kenma feels the knot form on Kuroo's forehead. Just as softly, Kenma expounds, "Stop sounding so defeated. You're still here — You're still Kuroo." _There's still hope._

Kuroo swallows thickly, still keeping Kenma close. 

"Yeah." He exhales shakily. "Yeah, I'm still here." It's soft, and then with more conviction, he repeats, "I'm still here."

๏

_Despite Kuroo's protests (I could_ still _turn!), Kenma falls asleep by his side. They wake up the next day to Bokuto's excited hollers, Lev's screams of "Kuroo-san!", and Akaashi and Yaku's disbelief._

_Kenma and Kuroo couldn't believe it either._

_Akaashi checks the wound, and still with disbelief, tells them the wound is healing nicely._

_What it could mean, they didn't know, but that was a bridge to be crossed later on._

**Author's Note:**

> [@kenmafuI](https://www.twitter.com/kenmafui)


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